


Tap on my window, knock on my door.

by DriftingAway



Category: Larry Stylinson - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Art Student Zayn, Barista Harry, Football Player Liam, Mutual Pining, larry stylinson - Freeform, ziam
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2016-02-24
Packaged: 2018-03-05 07:57:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3112097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DriftingAway/pseuds/DriftingAway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis makes a terrible, terrible mistake: he sets his roommate, Zayn, up with the man of his dreams, Liam. As a result, he now has to endure the cuddling, the sex, and the weird pet names. Through a series of events, he meets Liam's roommate--Barista Harry, who works at the local university coffee shop. Barista-Roommate Harry also turns out to be rather attractive. Adventures ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Courtship of Zayn from Ceramics and Football Liam

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter is mainly Ziam, and for that I apologize to all my fellow Larry Lovers out there. Larry will be the main focus here on out. As of now, I'm not sure how many chapters I plan on having this be, but I will figure that out soon! (I hope). This is my first attempt at fanfiction, so please let me know what you think!

In all honesty, Louis only had himself to blame. The semester had started out as usual—he had requested to share a double with Zayn, the assumption being that their compatible living habits (namely their love of late nights and drowsy mornings, their shared affinity for weed, and the fact that Zayn had no problem with living in a shithole of Louis’ dirty laundry) would lead to a harmonious and enjoyable term. What Louis had not anticipated, however, was Liam Payne. The tall and well-built footie player had apparently found a new love of pottery over the summer holidays and so, rather unfortunately, a week into school, Louis found himself comforting an insecure and vulnerable Zayn Malik over a pint of ice cream and a night of cyber-stalking. The two goods things that came of that night—the establishment of Liam’s singleness and Liam’s gayness—were soon overshadowed by Louis having to endure nonstop chatter on Liam this and Liam that and oh my God, Louis, today Liam made a little bowl shaped like a heart and he told me that it was for his mum. His mum, Lou, his mum! Is he not the most perfect, kind, and gentle human to walk this planet?

And so, out of the goodness of his heart, Louis felt that it was only right to help put Zayn out of his misery. One Friday, at some godforsaken hour of the morning, he trudged his sorry self onto the football pitch and waited until the team was finished running laps before confronting Liam.  
“So,” he’d begun. “I’m Louis, Zayn’s friend, and I’m here to tell you. Sorry, scratch that. I’m here to beg you. I’m begging you. Please, please, please, for my sanity, either ask him out or somehow tell him that you two are never going to work and kindly, and forcefully, encourage him to move on, otherwise I swear to God, the damage may be irreversible and I may truly go mad.”  
Liam, who had a water bottle half way to his lips, stood there, mouth agape, for a long, agonizing moment. “Um,” he finally said, eyebrows furrowing in deep concentration as if he were trying to detect a hidden message in Louis’, admittedly long-winded, proposal. “Zayn…Zayn from ceramics? You want me to ask Zayn from ceramics out?”  
Louis nodded. “Ideally. Yes.”  
And so that evening, Zayn had returned from ceramics with starry eyes and what could only be described as utter delight plastered across his face. The following night, Louis sat at his desk eating popcorn and watching Zayn try on the entirety of his wardrobe before finally giving up and, looking somewhat crazed, turning to look at himself in the mirror with nothing but his underwear on, throwing his hands up in the air and wailing—“I give up, Lou, I give up! He’s well out of my league anyways. I might as well just…oh, God, I don’t even know.” But Louis had remained unfazed. Years of Zayn’s melodramatic antics had made him an expert. He merely sighed, stood up, plucked a shirt and some trousers from the pile on the floor, and returned to his popcorn. Zayn, after a calming breath or two (or three), had donned the clothes Louis had given him, brushed out his hair, taken a mint, and straightened his jumper one last time before heading for the door.  
Louis, who at this point had retreated to his bed, looked up from his computer. “Have fun. Should I wait up?” To this, Zayn merely flipped him off.

Louis must have fallen asleep before Zayn made it back because the next thing he knew, sunlight was steaming through the window and across his face, whilst the sound of humming was slowly filling his ears. The humming was actually getting quite annoying. He cracked an eye open. The sight before him was truly startling.  
Zayn Malik was standing in front of his mirror, shirt off, examining a round of love bites that stretched from the underside of his ear all the way to his hipbone, while humming. And the humming was that happy humming. The kind of humming that subtly implies—why yes, I did get some last night, and why yes, I am quite happy with my sex life thanks for asking.  
“Oh please shut up.” Louis threw a pillow at Zayn, who was now swaying his hips and hugging his arms around his stomach. “God, what have I done?”

It turned out that they hadn’t had sex, only blowjobs, because Liam didn’t want to seem too easy or something like that, only Zayn had slapped Louis when Louis said that because no, apparently Liam was a gentleman who believed that a real relationship was more than just the physical stuff. Louis was rather skeptical, but regardless, this had larger, and more serious implications. Come date three, Zayn was a nervous mess.  
“I mean, I’m ready, you know? I’ve been ready since he looked at me that first day in class and god, Lou, I’m telling you his eyes are enough to make me cum but Jesus, like, I don’t want him to think that I’m pressuring him or anything. He’s so sweet, and…innocent, I guess? I just want to somehow let him know that I’m ready without him feeling like he has to be ready, but also that he can tell me that he’s ready if he’s ready.”  
But something must’ve gone right for Zayn because at quarter till midnight, Louis received a text reading: _URGENT—headed back. Be gone. Take dirty laundry with you._ Which meant that while Zayn spent the night having wonderful orgasms with wonderful Liam, Louis was stuck in the fourth floor laundry room washing four weeks worth of socks.  
The following weeks became rapidly worse. At first, Zayn was good about texting Louis when Liam was going to be over, and that was usually once or twice per week, normally on the weekends. Slowly and surely, though, Liam began making guest appearances on Mondays to “watch TV”, and Tuesdays to “get help with ceramics”, and Wednesdays “for lunch”, and Thursdays to “do homework”, and all of a sudden Liam was so frequently in the room that the texts began to be sent when he wasn’t in the room so as to inform Louis that he could return without the risk of witnessing his best friend in a compromising position.  
Granted, Louis had to give it to Liam—he was polite. Which made the whole thing rather infuriating. For example, one afternoon Louis returned from class to find them on his desk, Zayn’s trousers around his ankles and noises coming out of both of their mouths that Louis would pay anything to un-hear. He wanted to be furious. Louis really, truly wanted to be furious. But when he returned that evening, the entire room had been deep cleaned and a full Nando’s supper had been left as a peace offering on his (now lemon Lysol scented) desk. So he soldiered on. He endured. He learned to knock loudly and announce his presence before entering rooms. And soon, he also learned that he was not alone.

It was nearing the end of November when he met him. Louis was cramming for an exam in the north side coffee shop and had been there for quite some time. His bum was starting to fall asleep and the words were starting to blur together. Sighing, he put down his pencil and stood up, grabbing his wallet from his bag and making his way up to the counter. It was nearing evening and the place had been steadily emptying over the last few hours. There were two boys behind the bar, one with his head in his hands, and the other, a blonde, who was snapping his dishrag carelessly at the other boy’s butt.  
“I’m telling you Niall it’s awful. I thought that actually getting with this guy would shut him up but it’s made him worse. Before they got together I had to endure the endless talk of his dreamy eyes and his perfect lips and his bronzed skin and his broad shoulders. Now I have to endure the sound of this dude’s orgasms instead.” The blonde boy snorted and flicked the dishrag once more. “This isn’t funny! I was studying yesterday and I found some mysterious stain on my textbook. On my textbook, Niall, my textbook!”  
Louis cleared his throat. The two of them looked up.  
“Shit, sorry mate.” The boy who had previously been slouched over the desk straightened up and flattened out his apron. “What can I get you?”  
Louis’ voice caught in his throat. This boy, this bad-roommate having, tea-making boy was beautiful. He was gorgeous and fine and he had hands big enough to grab the entirety of Louis’ ass. After a minute, Louis came to. “Oh, um, tea please, Yorkshire, two sugars.”  
He watched the boy scribble on the cup and send it sailing down to Niall who had positioned himself at the opposite end of the bar, handing over a few coins.  
“So, uh, roommate problems, eh?”  
The barista laughed. “I mean, he’s my best mate. But he’s recently acquired a boyfriend and lets just say…it’s getting out of hand.”  
“I feel your pain, I’m in the exact same boat.”  
Barista boy raised his eyebrows. “Is that so?”  
“I’m afraid so.”  
There was a slight pause. The clock ticked slowly. Louis heard the sound of a chair scraping across the tiled floor. Niall cleared his throat.  
“Uh, you’re tea…and it’s five, H. You’re shift’s up.”  
“Well, in that case, I’ll have to give you my number…” the boy said, keeping eye contact with Louis. He grabbed the steaming cup off where Niall had placed it on the bar and began scribbling. “We should meet up,” he said, his voice muffled a little by the pen cap wedged between his lips. His sweet, plump, red little lips. “Compare notes on how to deal with insufferable, sexually active roommates.”  
“Yeah…yeah, absolutely.” Louis could hear the dazedness in his own voice and mentally cursed himself. Barista boy smiled and turned to go. Louis watched as he fumbled with the tie on his apron. Outside the world rushed by, students running off to lessons, cars jammed up by impatient workers on their way home from a long day. Barista boy seemed to be moving in slow motion, shaking his head back and forth, long hair swaying a bit. Louis was suddenly overcome with a notion to go up and pull on it. The boy was about to slip into the backroom and Louis was still standing rooted to the spot, trying to find his tongue.  
“Wait!” His voice, and the loudness of it, started him. He sloshed a bit of hot tea on his front.  
“Yes?” Barista boy had turned around, and suddenly, green, green eyes were on Louis. Big, beautiful green eyes.  
“Um. I…I’m Louis. And uh…what’s you’re name?” He sounded like an idiot, he knew. But at that moment he was too dazzled to care. The boy smiled a dimpled smile. God, he had dimples too. Louis had half a mind to go snog the boy’s face off, and half a mind to go shoot himself in the head so as to end his misery.  
“Some call me the master of love, some call me a cheeky bugger…but I suppose you can call me Harry.”  
And with that, he was gone.


	2. First Dates, First Mates

Louis returned to his room that night to find Zayn in another one of his panics. Upon opening the door, Zayn flew into his arms, eyes wild and hair flying.  
“Lou, Lou, help me. He’s gone and asked me to go home with him for the holidays. You know I’m shit with adults. And like, I want to, I really want to. And I want him to know that I want that kind of relationship where it’s all serious and long term and all that, but that I’m just absolute crap with parents. Oh God, Lou, he was so sweet when he asked. He was like ‘I want you to meet my mum because she’s the most important woman in my life, and you’re the most important man in my life’ and I just sat there ‘cause I didn’t know what to say and he probably hates me now and wants to break up. Oh my God, Lou, he’s going to dump me. He’s going—”  
Louis calmly raised a finger to Zayn’s lips. “Hush,” he said, rubbing small circles down his back. “Why don’t we make a cup of tea and sort this out?”  
So the next two hours were spend discussing the pros and cons of spending the holidays with Liam.  
“I’ve also just never said no to him, you know?” Zayn had long moved away from tea and onto an old bottle of vodka they’d stashed away for emergencies. “And I’m worried that if I tell him no now, he’ll never invite me to meet his parents again, and I do want to at some point…” his voice trailed off and Louis gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “Ugh, I’m such a horribly selfish person. I’ve been going on and on about my problems all night. You’re such a good friend, Lou.” He took another shot and slumped back against his chair.  
“How was your day, then? Get a lot of work done?”  
Suddenly, the excitement of meeting Barista Harry bubbled up again. Louis could feel himself grinning, and all of a sudden received a blow to the side of his head.  
“You weren’t studying! You were shagging! I can see it on your face. My God! Who is it, Lou? Why didn’t you tell me about this earlier?”  
“No, no! I swear!” Louis threw his hands up over his head to protect himself from the repeated smacks that Zayn kept delivering. “It’s nothing like that. I just…” he took a deep breath as Zayn recedes. “I met a guy at the coffee shop. I’d never seen him before. He’s…he’s really nice looking, and I don’t know…I got his number! So, there’s that.”  
“Tomlinson, look at you! What a stud. So, you had some sort of mature adult conversation that somehow led you to this number exchange? Or was I right, and you hooked up in the backroom next to an oven full of scones?”  
“Well if you must know,” the smile was now gone from Louis’ face and he had chosen to instead glower at the shit-eating grin on Zayn’s. “We both have asshole roommates who are in overly romantic and hyper-sexual relationships. That’s what we bonded over. We bonded over hating our roommates.” Zayn doesn’t look terribly offended. He doesn’t even look mildly offended. “But to be honest, the bonding was brief. His shift ended and I came back here.”  
Zayn said nothing, and instead poured them each a double shot. He slid one over to where Louis was sitting and raised his own in a salute.  
“I’ll make a proposal: you text this Barista Harry and tell him that you would like to spend more time ‘bonding,’” he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively before continuing. “And I’ll tell Liam that I think we should wait a bit to meet the parents.”  
Louis deliberated for a moment. He really had nothing to lose. In all honesty, he was planning on texting Harry anyways, just perhaps not right away. The best thing that could happen is that Harry says yes to going on a date with Louis, and that they end up in a beautiful relationship with sex lives that could rival Zayn and Liam’s. At the very worst, Harry would think he was a freak for texting so early, say no, and Louis would never be able to step foot in the north side coffee shop ever again. The choice wasn’t too hard to make.  
“Fine,” he raised his glass to mirror Zayn. They clinked and knocked them back. Soon, Louis found himself agonizing over the screen of his phone, writing a word then deleting it. Zayn was on his bed shouting out drunken helpful tips every so often.  
“Tell him you think he’s beautiful and you want to have his babies and start your own little coffee shop of love!” Zayn was now rolling around, giggling. God, Louis needed some new friends.  
Several drafts later, he settled on: _Hello Barista Harry! It’s Louis from the coffee shop earlier. Fancy grabbing a drink and swapping roommate stories sometime?_  
The minute he sent it, he powered off his phone, stuffed it under his pillow, and had a mild heart attack. Zayn crawled over to where he was sitting and began petting his arm. Soon, they had both fallen asleep in a tangle on Louis’ bed.

The next morning, Louis awoke to the sound of snogging. Liam had apparently come over sometime while Louis was sleeping, because he now sat by the foot of Louis’ bed with his mouth glued to Zayn’s.  
“Dear God!” Louis groaned. He had fallen asleep in his clothes, and so he fumbled blindly under his pillow for his phone before stumbling out of the room, wet smacking noises persisting despite the ruckus he was making. “Have fun, keep it safe, and not on my bed! You hear me?” He left with a final slam of the door that he hoped was loud enough to at least temporarily break the two apart.  
It was still rather early, and on such a morning the dining hall didn’t open until eleven, yet Louis’ stomach was already protesting madly, probably because his dinner had consisted of a cup of tea and a double shot of vodka. He began making his way to the coffee shop, which he was pretty sure opened a little earlier than the dining hall on weekends. It also occurred to him that perhaps he should check his messages.  
He powered up his phone again, the little white apple icon gleaming evilly at him. After a brief fumble for his password, the screen unlocked. Low and behold: Barista Harry had texted him back.  
 _Hey Louis!_ The message read. _I would love to grab a drink with you. Would Wednesday work?_ Louis heart did a sudden swoop. He let out a muffled scream into his gloved hand. He had a hot date with Barista Harry! He checked the text again. It had been sent the previous night at some time around one in the morning, so texting back now wouldn’t seem too eager at all.  
 _Barista Harry! Wednesday would be wonderful. Why don’t I meet you at the Old Glory?_

The rest of the day passed quickly. Louis returned that evening to find Zayn curled up in his bed sketching his feet.  
“Hi, Zayn,” he said slowly, setting down his backpack.  
“Lou!” Zayn set down his pencil and sketchpad. “Where’ve you been all day? I’ve been dying to know if Barista Harry texted you back!”  
Louis laughed a little. He could feel his cheeks heat up and a smile beginning to twist his face. “Yes,” he said, turning to face Zayn. “We have a date for Wednesday.”  
Zayn sighed contentedly, as if he was satisfied with his work. Louis snorted a bit. If only Zayn knew just how instrumental Louis had been in getting him and Liam together.  
“And how did things go with Liam?”  
Zayn’s grin faded a bit. “Um, he uh…I mean, I told him that I thought maybe we should wait a bit, and that I wanted to take this slow, and he, um…I mean he was okay with it. I just think he might be a bit disappointed.” He swallowed. “I’m an awful person.” He flopped down onto his pillows. Louis grabbed his wrist.  
“Hey, that’s not true, okay? You’re an amazing person, and you’re an amazing boyfriend. You just need some time. Don’t let Liam pressure you into something you’re not ready for.” Zayn nodded, but Louis could tell he was still beating himself up about it.

The next few days were rather uneventful. Louis was, in all honesty, counting the hours until his date with Harry. The plan was to meet at the pub around seven. Harry had mentioned that he would be heading there straight from work, and now Louis was agonizing over what to wear. When he finally picks an outfit, he moves on to agonizing over whether to buy Harry flowers or not. Zayn says not, but Louis kind of wants to anyways, so on the way to the pub he stopped to get Harry a bouquet of sunflowers.  
Sunflowers, it turned out, as pretty as they are, have massive, massive stems. Louis hands struggled to maintain a tight grip on the bunch of them. Not too surprisingly, he arrived early. There was a minute’s struggle wherein he tried to decide whether or not to take the cozy little romantic two-person table by the window, or whether that would be moving too quickly. Eventually, he decided to take it. Live while you’re young and all the crap, right?  
After three false alarms (one elderly lady, one middle-aged man, and one random bloke Louis’ age), the door finally opened and Harry walked in. Louis felt his heart rate pick up. Harry was wearing a pair of tight, tight jeans that hung dangerously low on his hips. He was also wearing a knee length coat and a scarf, his hair a little windswept and his cheeks a little red. Louis felt himself stand up and give a little wave. As soon as he realized what he was doing it was too late. Harry had spotted him and gave a tiny wave back before heading over.  
“Louis!” He seemed genuinely happy. Louis gulped. He quickly held out the flowers. Unfortunately, his nerves made it so he more or less shoved them in Harry’s face.  
“Oh, Lou, you shouldn’t have!” But the look on Harry’s face was so worth it. His eyes lit up and his hands wrapped around the stems, right above Louis’ hands, lifting them up and closer towards his chest where he cradled them for a minute. “I love sunflowers, how did you know?”  
Louis bit his lip. “Lucky guess?”  
Harry smiled and sat down, gesturing for Louis to do the same. After a moment of awkward silence, Harry tapped his tapped his knuckles on the table. “What’ll you be having? It’s on me.”  
Louis tried to protest—“Come on, I asked you here, I should be the one buying you a drink!”  
“Too late,” Harry grinned and reached for his wallet. “What’ll it be then?”

Two and a half pints later, Louis realized that this actually might be bad. Very, very bad. Barista Harry had been so pretty to look at. But unfortunately, he turned out to be wonderful in person, delightful in conversation, and sweet in nature. Now Louis was utterly screwed.  
“And so anyways, I decided to come here ‘cause the program was so good, and I just thought that if I really want to be doing this my whole life, I might as well be good at it…” Harry’s voice trailed off a little and Louis felt bad. He’d been too busy fantasizing about Harry’s thighs, which at the moment were crossed one on top of the other, to pay too much attention to what was coming out of his mouth. Louis was a horrible, shallow human being.  
“Right, right,” he leaned forward, knocking his napkin off the table. Christ. “I mean…you look well cut out to be a doctor.”  
Harry smiled a little. “You really think so?”  
“Sure!” Louis wanted to tell him that he’d be well cut out to do just about anything, but something told him that’d be a little weird.  
“Well, I appreciate that.” Harry was playing with the straw in his drink. One beer in he’d switched to lemonade because, he’d admitted with a little blush, he was rather a lightweight.  
“How is the roommate?” Louis asked, silently applauding himself for managing to say something.  
“Dear God,” Harry let out a huff and a laugh at the same time. “Um…a bit upset to be honest. He and his boyfriend got into an argument of sorts. I’m not really sure; he said he didn’t want to talk about it. It had something to do with commitment or whatever.” Harry rolled his eyes before smiling a dazzling smile. “Enough about them, though. I want to know more about you.”  
Louis did his best to laugh, but he could also feel himself getting nervous in the spotlight. “Uh, right. Well. I’m nowhere near as interesting as you, Mr. Medical Student Barista Hipster.” Harry snorted into his lemonade. “I’m from Doncaster. I live there with my mum and my sisters. They’re all younger, and we get on pretty well. I’m studying literature…mainly because I really like reading, but I also had no clue what else I might want to study.”  
“Any hobbies or anything?” Harry sucked a huge sip, his cheeks blowing up and Louis felt his own mouth go a little dry.  
“Nothing really serious. I like music…listening to it, I can’t sing or anything. My roommate’s rather artsy, so he ropes me into craft projects and stuff sometimes. I…” he wracked his brains for something that would make him interesting, something that would make him worth Harry’s time.  
“I like to cook,” Harry supplied, smiling at the relieved little sign Louis gave.  
“Is that so? What can you make?”  
Harry shrugged. “Anything you like really…” he glanced at his watch. “It’s getting late, I’ve got an early class tomorrow. What do you say to walking me back?”  
Louis stood up and grabbed his coat from the back of his chair. “I’d love to.”

The walk was short, and when he got to Harry’s building, Harry grabbed him by his shoulders.  
“I had a really nice time, Lou. We should do this again.”  
Louis grinned.  
“Same. Maybe next time you can cook for me.”  
They stood there for a minute, their breath puffing out in front of them in short bursts. Harry began to lean in. Louis could count his eyelashes (they were a delicate brown), his freckles (there were two in total), and all the colors in his eyes (green, and blue, and brown, and even a little bit of purple).  
Then, Louis’ eyes closed and he didn’t see anything at all. He could only hear, and feel, and what he heard was Harry’s breathing, and what he felt was Harry’s lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is still rather surface level, but I'm hoping to get into more depth soon! Hope you enjoyed! Comments are always super, super nice.


	3. In the Clear Yet (Good)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its been 84 years  
> very sorry bout that.
> 
> This chapter's pretty Ziam heavy; it will all come together, as I'm sure you've figured out with the not so subtle hints :)

Louis had always liked November—the air wasn’t too cold to handle yet, but the heat from the summer would have fizzled out, allowing him to capitalize on scarves and beanies and other knitted accessories that he was quite sure added greatly to his overall cuteness factor. He contemplates this as he stands in front of his mirror, wrapping a scarf around his neck, hands moving automatically to adjust the drooping left pom-pom. His night with Harry had ended with what seemed a very chaste kiss, and his now scarf-clad neck was wishing it had a few lip-shaped bruises to hide. Even just one would do wonders for Louis’ self esteem. Alas.

Zayn had already taken off by the time Louis got up; as surprising as it might be, Zayn was actually somewhat of an early bird. The early hour cleared his head and allowed for his art to flow, unrestrained, from his body…or something like that. After one final glance in the mirror, Louis swung his backpack over his shoulder and headed out for the day.

It was going on ten o’clock, and as he legged it to the other side of campus, he couldn’t help but wonder what Harry was up to at this hour. Was he working? Or cramming an assignment? No, Harry would never cram. He definitely seemed like the type who would plan out the entire semesters’ assignments on the first day of school and color-code all his classes so as to keep them in order. He probably also had little phone reminders for major due dates and tests. Yes, Louis decided, Harry was definitely that kind of boy.

Right as this thought was finishing, but before Louis could pull himself out of his Harry-induced dream state, he felt his shoulder collide with an oncoming figure. He heard, before he felt, the air leave his body, and then a pair of hands quickly grab him before he could splat onto the pavement in what would be a very embarrassing and public fall.

“So sorry,” the voice was coming from above him, and Louis had to blink a few times, his fringe in his eyes mixing with the stars dancing across his slightly blackened vision.

“It’s fine, fine,” he tried to reassure whoever it was looming over him, holding him steady. The voice sounded a little scared…and a little sad now, come to think of it.

“Really, I am…oh, crap, Lou!”

Louis blinked once more and straightened up. He was standing face-to-face with Liam.

“Liam, hey mate, no worries! No harm, no foul. Look, I’m not even bleeding or anything.” Louis took a step back. Liam seemed rather upset from such a mild collision. “Are you alright, mate? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Liam shook his head. “No, no, I’m fine. I’m just…I’m sorry, my head’s a bit all over right now.”

“Right well, I’m sorry but I’ve actually got to get going…class and all.”

            “No, no,” Liam scrambled to apologize again, “I’m sorry for delaying you!”

 

            On the remainder of the walk to class, Louis made a mental note to tell Zayn to check up on Liam, make sure everything was okay, proceeding to spend the next hour pondering all his life decisions, namely why he decided to major in literature and not pre-med, because the thought of Harry in a lab coat…well…

            His professor slammed a book down on the desk making him jump a little in his chair. Everyone else around him stood up and started hurriedly shoving books into bags, whipping phones out of pockets.

            “Don’t forget to read for next class—”

 

            Zayn was in a mood when Louis found him curled up on his bed with a plate of curly fries and a cup of coffee.

            “Hey,” Louis snuggled up close and made a grab for the fries. Zayn didn’t even try to stop him. “Hey,” this time it came out sounding more concerned. “Hey, is everything alright?”

            “No, nothing is fucking alright.”

            Louis nodded. It was one of those days.

            “Well…I saw your boy on the quad today. He was looking mighty fine.”

            “He’s not my fucking boy anymore.” It was so clear that Zayn was trying to sound angry but Louis could hear the sadness in his voice, and he watched as Zayn’s hands shook a little as he reached out for a handful of curlies. Louis suddenly felt bad for stealing some.

            “Oh, babe. What happened?”

            Zayn shrugged.

            “Zayn, come on, something must have happened.”

            Zayn sighed, squashing a poor little fry between his thumb and his index finger, watching the grease slither out and down his hand onto the left side of his wrist. “He said that he thought it be best if we ‘took some time to contemplate what we want out of this relationship.’” Zayn shoved the squashed fry into his mouth and licked the grease from his hand. “It’s bullshit. He knows I love him. He knows I’d do anything for him.”

            “Oh, Zayn, I’m so, so sorry.” Louis grabbed Zayn’s shoulders and pulled him down for a sideways hug.

            “Yeah, well, anyways. Now I’m not sure if we’re together or what, but all I know is after he was done fucking giving me his little speech he canceled our date night on Friday. He said he has some work to catch up on and that it’ll give us more time to think. I’m just so angry. I’ve never been angry at him before!”

            Louis hated this—the last serious relationship that Louis had was, admittedly, a while ago. And Louis, although a drama queen, was never one to stir up rousing arguments full of slamming doors and cuss words. He was more passive aggressive, retreating quietly into himself. Zayn, though…he could picture it. He could picture the fight, the way Zayn would cry, his cheeks turning red and his eyes welling up. He could see Liam trying to calm him down, trying to be reasonable, trying to be realistic; he could hear Zayn saying this he didn’t mean.

            “C’mon, babe,” Louis reached for the plate of fries, tugging it away. “Let’s get you out of this room…”

            They end up walking to the student union building. Zayn mumbles something about beer, but Louis thinks the better of it and winds up getting them tea instead. They’re sat at the window seat, looking out at the library, watching students pass by. After a minute, Zayn looks up.

            “Shit, Lou. I’m a shit friend. How was your date? I want to hear all about it.”

            Louis felt himself start to smile. The thought of Harry, the thought of Harry’s dimples and his collarbones and his wispy curls made something inside him flounder about. He ends up recounting the night, perhaps exaggerating the end of the night snog, but keeping fairly honest with the rest of it.

            “I’m happy for you, man.” And Zayn genuinely looks it. Sometimes Louis feels he doesn’t deserve someone so considerate and loving; he knows just how bitter a bean he is when he’s single and surrounded by budding lovers. “Did you guys make plans to meet up again? You thinking about making this serious?”

            Louis shrugged. “Wouldn’t be opposed to it…we just get on well. I feel like…I feel like I don’t know him very well, yet, though. You know what I mean? Like, I know him the way I’d know anyone. It’s just…I _want_ to know him in a way that I don’t want to know everyone.” Louis stirs his spoon for a second. That was actually rather quite eloquent, he thought.

 

            It’s not until the next day when Zayn is curled up under his blankets after declaring that there was no way in hell he could make it to ceramics without having a melt down, that there was no way he could look at Liam without screaming or crying or both, that Louis decides to call Harry. He steps out into the hallway, listening to the phone ring three times before he hears it pick up on the other end.

            “Hello?”

            Louis swallows; he’d forgotten how deep Harry’s voice was, how smooth and just naturally seductive he sounded. “H-h-hey,” he managed to squeak out. Damn. Harry, suave as hell, and Louis, a small mouse.

            “Lou?” Louis wasn’t sure if it was his mind hearing what it wanted, but Harry almost sounded as if he was smiling. “To what do I owe this phone call?”

            “Well, I…I wanted to say I had a nice time last night.” There was a slight pause. “And, um,” he rushed on, trying to think of what exactly it was the wanted. “I, well, I was hoping to see you again.”

            He heard a muffled voice on the other end, and then what sounded like Harry’s cheek rubbing against the receiver. A second later he heard Harry clear his voice, “of course, of course – I had an amazing time, and yeah,” there was a slight pause, Louis hoped that he wasn’t just imagining the blush in Harry’s voice, “I want to see you too. How about—”

            “Today,” Louis blurted before he could stop himself. “I mean, only if you’re free…”

            Harry let out a nervous, breathy laugh. “Today’s good, today’s good…I’ve just got to make sure my roommate’s…well, alive…but, actually,” there’s another fractional pause. “Let me take you somewhere, I’ve got an idea.”

 

            Louis’ only instructions were to be at the campus entrance in thirty minutes. After checking his hair and making sure Zayn was doing relatively alright, he headed out. When he got to the campus entrance, he was acutely aware of how quiet it was. The only time he really ventured off campus was during the weekends when students were streaming out all at once. He checked his phone—he was, surprisingly, early. Cute boys always had been able to get him to do unusual things.

            He hears him before he sees him—a strange click-clack on the pavement, a bare of heeled boots headed his way. His eyes work up the body, taking in a pair of tight jeans—sinfully so—and a lose sweater. When he reaches the boy’s face he can’t help but smile. All of a sudden Harry’s in his airspace, wrapping his arms quickly around Louis before letting go quickly—a fleeting hug. Louis wants to tackle him and burry his nose in Harry’s neck. He restrains himself.

            Instead, he peaks up through his lashes at Harry. “Where are you taking me, stud?”

            Harry grins. “You’ll see…”

            He begins to walk onto the main road, Louis having to do a rapid shuffle to keep up with his long legs. Harry, out of the corner of his eye, catches Louis’ little shuffle and a wimper-esque laugh escapes his mouth.

            “You’re adorable,” he murmurs. “Has anyone told you that before?”

            Louis huffs. “No one who’s still my friend.”

            “Oh, ho!” Harry’s giggle turns into a roaring laugh. “I like this sassy side of you.” Louis rolls his eyes. “Hey, what’s wrong with being adorable anyways?” Louis groans.

            “Here’s what’s wrong with adorable. When I say ‘hot’, like ‘that guy is so hot’, what do you think of?”

            “Liam Hemsworth.”

            “Right. And if I say ‘adorable’, what do you think of?”

            “Babies. And old couples. And small animals.”

            “See?”

            Harry shook his head, his forehead crinkling. “Not really…”

            Louis took a deep breath. “Okay, would you rather an attractive guy whom you might want to like you in a more-than-platonic way think of you as synonymous with Liam Hemsworth or an old gran?” Louis was expecting Harry to laugh, maybe roll his eyes…but instead, Harry stopped walking. There weren’t any cars on the road, it was just the asphalt and them, the rustle of some bushes making background noise.

            “I want to jump Liam Hemsworth’s bones, but I want to take care of my gran, make sure she’s happy. I want to know about her life and I want her to know about mine. The word ‘hot’ evokes mainly physical feelings. But if I say you’re adorable, it means that I find you interesting, endearing…”

            Louis’ taken aback, but only for a moment.

            “Yeah, okay,” he relents, “but you don’t want to jump your gran!”

            “Ew, no,” Harry resumes walking, Louis trotting behind him.

            “Right. But like, if you were my boyfriend, I’d want you to want to jump me.”

            This made Harry laugh, a deep, rich laugh. “All in good time, Lou, all in good time.”

 

About twenty minutes later, Harry veered off the road, headed towards a thick set of trees. Louis raised his eyebrows but followed. The walked deeper and deeper into the woods until they came to a small clearing; it was then that Louis noticed the small backpack hanging from Harry’s shoulders. Harry set it down and unrolled a thin blanket, spreading it gently over the damp leaves. He then pulled out a thermos, some paper cups, and a tin of biscuits.

            “I came here during my first year,” Harry said. “I thought it was so romantic. I actually was drunk when I found it. I’d just been down at the Fox and Crown with some mates…first week stuff, you know. Didn’t know how to hold my liquor yet.” He smiled a lopsided, dimple-y little smile. “Anyways, I was piss drunk and walking back. I really, really had to pee, so I made the guys stop. We all stumbled into the woods together and I had my first public drunk pee right…” Harry leaned forward pointing to a tree behind Louis “there”.

            Louis sat there for a moment. “Charming.”

            Harry nodded, reaching for the thermos. He poured them each a cup of tea and popped open the biscuits. Louis smiled; it felt nice. Nice, quiet, natural. Harry’s beautiful; something inside him feels an urge to shout it out, disrupt the birds on their perches. Harry’s reaching for a biscuit, breaking it in two and dunking half of it in his tea. Louis doesn’t think, he just leans forward, and kisses Harry, hard, firm. Harry’s lips taste like sugar and he kisses back eagerly. There will be time to learn everything, to learn brothers and sisters’ names, to learn pet peeves and weird habits. But right now Louis’ got the seal of Harry’s lips against his tongue, and before he knows it, he’s got Harry’s tongue against tongue, and he’s bringing their bodies closer and closer, sliding up against the other boy’s ribcage, thinking only of that.

**Author's Note:**

> Just for a heads up, the idea for where this is all going in the future involves a roommate swap of sorts... ! Also, my tumblr is paddlingtolondonwithmyspoon.tumblr.com - please do say hello if you'd like!


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